Off and Running In 2018

Welcome site at the end of a snowy hike this week

No New Year’s Resolutions for me this year. I have tried them in the past but never followed through. I do like seeing others with resolutions and hope they do well with them. But, I do have hopes for the new year.

Unintentional Slow Down - After publishing four books in 2014-2015 and four more in 2016, I finished one last year. So here I go with my non-resolution, resolution – I need to get back to four again this year. Shouldn't be hard, as my faithful readers know, I have two finished, and being edited now, that means I need to finish the other two I have stated.

New Things in 2018  -  I do have a new Author Page on Facebook 

& I still have my long-time author page on Amazon

I have great hope that the new page will add to my author exposure, and eventually to more book sales.

Working On - The first week of the year most of my work has been on my nonfiction book. This one takes more time with footnotes and so many sources, but I am having fun with it. Not sure when I will finish, looks like it could go five or even six-hundred pages. When this one wears me out I will go back to one of my other projects.

An old-time dugout in the snow

Happy New Year and wishing you Luck with your 2018 resolutions. 

Think Spring

A Novel Setting

Choosing the setting for a story is never easy unless you follow the old writer's adage of write what you know. That is exactly what I do, or try to do.  I set my stories in places I have been, typically many times or places where I live or have lived.

All three of my children’s books are set in my hometown in Southeast Nebraska. My historical fiction all starts in Wyoming, where I live, but often wanders into nearby states.

 Recently I read a book, supposedly set in the area where I was born and where I spent many years. I was excited to get the book and start reading. It was a pretty good story but could have been set anywhere as the story used no descriptions of the area.  At the end I got the feeling that the author might use other titles for this same book, change a few words and re-release it. When I read I like to feel like I am there, and like stories that take me away. I have never visited Hogwarts. But felt like it when I read the Harry Potter series. I also like Lee Child books, often set in big cities that I have not visited, but I feel like I know them when reading.

I live in Wyoming, grew up in Nebraska, spend time each year in Colorado, South Dakota, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Kansas and Missouri and like to write about those places. We have also spent a good bit of time in Australia and Hawaii, places I someday hope to use as settings.

Take me away with a story and I love it.

Today’s photos from hikes in the nearby Guernsey State Park the past few evenings.

Thanks for reading - click here to see all my books on Amazon

An Attempt at Book Marketing

It has been an interesting three days as I attempted to move a few books. Over the past few weeks, I have been trying to read more about book marketing. Something I have not done much of, instead I spend time writing and editing, then move on to another book. I like the writing part, but am woefully bad at marketing. I have turned down several chances to publish with small presses as I still would have been the main, or only, marketer, could not see an advantage over Indy publishing.

To boost my sales, I offered a free eBook, a pretty good read and one I had a chance to publish with a small press. I declined the small press offer, believing if it only sold a few hundred copies I would make more Indy, than with a small press.

Creating a good Facebook Author Page, and developing an active email list seem to be the first needed steps, I have done neither. Instead, I trudge on, with a handful of posts on my blogs and a once-in-a-while tweet about my books. Guess what? It doesn’t work. A few days ago I posted this, in different variations, on several of my blog sites, as an attempt at marketing.

I am giving away, for the next three days, one of my novels, Ghost of the Fawn, the eBook format anyway. If you read on electronic devices, like Kindle or even your phone, it is free, no strings attached, just click the Amazon, buy for $0.00 - and it is all yours.

So what will you be getting? An adventure, modern day western mystery, set in several places in Wyoming. And it's short, only a couple hundred pages.

Click the link, download the book, and see what I have been up to the last few years.

How did it do? About what I expected, a few dozen downloads and a bit of an uptick in sales of my other stuff – but overall, not much. Looks like I might need to take some advice from marketers, who know what they are doing, to heart. 

The free download of Ghost of the Fawn is still available, click any of the links on this page to get a free copy. 

Love to hear about anything that has worked for other Indy writers.

Genres, Writing, Reading and Wandering

A few thoughts on books, authors and all things writing and reading.

Writers come in all sizes, shapes, ages and genres. The list on the bottom of this post is not complete but, I think, a decent list of various modern genres. No matter what area of writing an author is working in there will be competition for readers. Today with self-publishing each category has developed sub categories, some genres many of them. And the competition to sell books is fierce.

In my day, as a school kid, I read action, adventure and westerns, along with anything I could find about baseball players. Today school kids seem to read fantasy and horror, with many girls having a tenancy to pick up romance. In my part of the world, the boys still like hunting stories.

Both as a youngster and as an adult I have enjoyed a good mystery, Mystery mixed with any of the above seem to be good catchers for today’s readers.

In my growing up years we read comic books, today kids read graphic novels, which look pretty much the same to me. The only difference, ours were usually humorous and in color, while graphic novels seem more along the lines of super hero or romance, serious books printed in black and white.

I think most westerns with large readership today would be classified as modern western mysteries. Two Wyoming writers, C.J. Box and Craig Johnson have been very successful in this area of writing. As far as the traditional, old west, western, it’s not dead, but I’m not sure any new author or agent could convince a major, traditional publish house, to buy one. Doubtful an author starting out could even find a reader among agents and publishers for this genre – too bad. I would still try one.

A literary genre is a category of writing. Genres may be determined by many factors.  Differences between genres and subcategories of genres are loosely defined.

Snowy Today in Wyoming

~My Incomplete Genre List~

Action

Adventure

Anthologies

Art

Autobiographies                 

Biographies

Children's

Comics

Cookbooks

Diaries

Dictionaries

Drama

Encyclopedias

Fantasy

Guide

History

Horror

Journals

Math

Mystery

Poetry

Prayer books

Religious

Romance

 Satire

Science

Science fiction

Self help

Series

Travel

Trilogies

Westerns

Great Western Line

Not sure if anyone ever rated, The Proving Trail, as one of Louis L’Amour’s best novels. I like to read what I classify as western mysteries and this is a good one.  I love this line from the novel, to me it is one of the best lines that late Mr. L’Amour ever put on paper.

“The way I see it, every time a man gets up in the morning he starts his life over. Sure, the bills are there to pay, and the job is there to do, but you don't have to stay in a pattern. You can always start over, saddle a fresh horse and take another trail.”

In my life I have done that a couple of times, changed directions, took another trail and you know what? Never regretted it. Who knows? Maybe I will try it again, just because I am retired, it’s never too late to saddle a new horse and ride a new trail.

To Write or Not to Write – Is that Today’s Question

With profound apologies to the Bard for the above abuse of his prose, some days it is really difficult to write. I consider myself to one of modest output.  Over the past 12 years I have written about 2,000 pages of finished material.

To a non-writer that may seem to be prolific, but to those of us who try to write every day it is not much.

 Setting here pounding away on my laptop I thought it might be fun to see what I have accomplished –so, let’s see.

·       2 Novels complete - I will continue editing for ever

·       2 Novels incomplete - each in the 20 to 30 thousand range, one a mystery I can’t figure out who did it, so can’t go on

·       Short Stories - Ah, better here-five collections with four to 10 stories in each

·       Nonfiction History - One incomplete manuscript of around 60,000 words (The stuff in one of my other blogs, Wyoming Fact and Fiction, is all taken from this work)

·       Nonfiction Humor - One nearly complete manuscript, working title, “How to Lose It All In Your Very Own Small Business – Lessons from someone who knows”

·       Trash Can – Thousands of pieces of crap I could not stand

 
And in the end—it’s all worth it.

I write because I enjoy it, and every once in a while I write something I think is good enough to publish, that part I do not care for.

I have published both traditionally (newspapers, travel journals and guides) and online and still find writing enjoyable and attempts to publish deplorable.

Think I will set down and try to write something.

Enjoy

Re-write and Re-check - Again and Again

Well, I made it. Re-write, second time through, is complete. Now I will spend some time finding those pesky words, you know the words that are used too often. I check a rather small list but one I believe is pretty effective. Here is the list

ü That –This may be one of the most over used words in all of noveldom (made up that word but I like it)  Example – He checked to make sure that the ropes were tight – BETTER – He checked to make sure the ropes were tight.

ü Stuff-Used more by young people, I did a find on my 84,000 word novel and used it seven times-that’s OK

ü Things

ü Got

ü Was

ü Went

ü Very-Another word that is often overused to the extreme-Mark Twain said to cross out the word very every time it is used and substitute damn, guess what, it works!

ü Are-

ü Good-

ü When-

ü As-

ü And, of course, I will do a “ly” check; these pesky adverbs are easy to over use.

On this same note many authors do not write in first person because it is so easy to start every paragraph or almost every sentence with I.

 One of my works in progress is a written in first person Mystery, ran an “I” check and decided to put it away for awhile. It’s hard.

 

Jim Bridger-Rewrites and Other Stuff

Jim Bridger Architect

Over the years I have written numerous short stories about mountain men, one of my favorite subjects, Jim Bridger has always been a favorite of mine. Sometimes he is forgotten for some of real impact he had on Wyoming and the west.

 In 1862, President Lincoln signed a bill that created the Union Pacific Railway Company. General Dodge and other government officials were unsure of which route through Wyoming would be the best, follow the Oregon Trail or take a more southern route. So they called in America’s foremost authority on the Rocky Mountains, Jim Bridger. Word was sent to Bridger in St. Louis that he was needed in Denver on important business.

When Bridger arrived in Denver, the engineers showed him their plans and asked the old mountain man where the best place to cross the mountains might be. Bridger asked for a piece of paper, grabbed a charcoal burned stick out of the fire and preceded to draw a map of the Rockies in Colorado and Wyoming. Never one to miss a chance to take a job at government officials, Bridger told them they should have saved their money, he could have drawn the map in St. Louis, but he was secretly grateful for this one last chance to visit his beloved Rockies.

On that little sheet of paper Bridger drew the exact rout that the transcontinental railroad followed across the state of Wyoming. The railroad still follows that same route today, through the rugged pass between Cheyenne and Laramie. Later Interstate 80 paralleled the transcontinental railroad across Wyoming. Making ol’ Gabe (Jim Bridger) not only a mountain man but a builder of railroads and interstates, Bridger may have never learned to read and write but he was one fine map maker and architect.

 

In another area I am 2/3 through with my final review/rewrite of my novel, currently titled, Commitment, hope to have it placed with an agent or published by summer. Originally I had hoped to try it as a Black Horse Western but at nearly 85,000 words I will need to look elsewhere.

For those who have followed this blog since the old days at AOL-yes then I will attempt final rewrites on my other novel. The Mystery at Hell’s Half Acre.

 

And the Dead Guy Takes two

 Doing lots of research and even a little bit of writing and editing with the cold weather now set in for a spell.  Odd how I seem to have so much time to set at my computer now that the garden and the golf greens have froze up for the year.

I have been toying with writing a short story about this incident for years but settled on the following, magazine type story—hope you enjoy.

-And The Dead Guy Takes Two-

In the last half of the nineteenth century and early in the twentieth Hartville, Wyoming was a wide open cowboy and miner town. Main Street boosted several bars, gambling houses and even a few upstairs of ill-repute businesses.

In the spring of 1902 a man only know as, the White Swede, came to town intent on a little drinking and gambling. He drank some, partied some, and died. Not a very good story, not until he was dead anyway.

The town of Hartville had no undertakers and no one seemed willing to make the five mile trip over iffy roads to Guernsey to see if an undertaker could be coerced into making a dangerous five mile trip under pitch dark skies. Because the Swede had no known family, and no close friends, the small group in the bar where the heart attack, or some other natural cause took him, decided to wait for morning and then do something about a burial for the poor guy.

The body was moved, out of respect for the dead, to a more suitable room away from the hustle and bustle of Main Street. Two cowboys and a copper miner volunteered to watch the body until morning and helped carry the old Swede to a room a block away from the main action of the town. It didn’t take long for the three helpers to get bored. And what better way to pass the time than to play some cards, poker to be precise. The three started a lively game but it didn’t seem quite right without a fourth. So they propped up the old Swede, put a cigar in his mouth, poured him a shot, sat the bottle near his right hand and dealt him in.

After each deal they put the Swede’s cards in his ever stiffening hand and took turns betting and playing cards for him each time his turn came up. The foursome played through the night with visitors often stopping by to see how this most unusual game was going.

The next day the Swede was buried and the undertaker was paid from the Swedes all night poker winnings. He didn’t clean his playing partners out, but he came close.

*When I first moved to this area, 80 years after the White Swede was laid to rest, the old timers were still telling this most unusual story. To add either more fact or fiction to this story, they mentioned, the White Swede had dark hair, was short and rotund and looked nothing at all like a Swede.

A Christmas Story

The old cowboy rode along at a slow walk, he’d owned cars and trucks for more than 20 years, maybe time passed him by, he didn’t care, it was 1952 and he remembered a time before automobiles , a slower, gentler time and then the wars, two big ones, changed everything. Something in the wind moved him back to 1952 again. He tipped his nose toward the sky and sniffed. It was wood smoke. A half hour back, before the wind freshened, he thought he smelled smoke but passed it off, thinking if old people could start seeing things and hearing things maybe he started smelling things that were not there. But now he was sure, it was smoke.

But that couldn’t be, not in December, matter of fact it’s the 24^th, Christmas Eve. Good memories started to fill his head but he pushed them away as quickly as they had come on. Christmas was just another day in December, nothing special, at least to him, not anymore.

People didn’t camp this high up in December, hunting season was long past and the only house, except for his five miles away, was the old Godfrey place. It was maybe three quarters of a mile over the ridge to the north. The smell of burning wood was coming with the north wind, but that place had been vacant for what, 20 years, at least 15?

Clark Banks pulled up to think, but only for a moment, he had to know, that was the kind of guy he was. The sun was setting, it would be late, long past dark, when he got home, but he tapped his heels in his gray gelding and loped north picking his way though flat rocks and yucca.

He always liked the old Godfrey place, isolated, but picture perfect, like a bank calendar picture. The place set in a natural mountain park surrounded by junipers and berry bushes. Years ago when he and Bette last visited the Godfrey’s they were old and frail and the place had been falling apart. Couldn’t be much of anything left now.

Another minute and Clark Banks reached the crest of the hill overlooking the long deserted place. Only three times in his 65 years had something left him speechless, the day he got married, when their only child was born and now as he looked down on the old Godfrey place.

It was spectacular, the Junipers were sparkling with thousands of multi-colored lights. The cabin he remembered in complete disrepair was larger, much larger, than he remembered. It was old but perfect, looked sound, complete with light showing through the windows and the smoke he’d smelled was wind angling north from the chimney in great black and white puffs. There was a large barn that hadn’t been there 20 years ago along with half a dozen out buildings and four large corrals.

Banks had not taken a drink of alcohol for years, right now he needed a drink, but he settled for a thorough rubbing of his eyes and another look at the scene below, a scene that did not change. He let the gray pick his way down the steep hillside, he had to see, he had to know, that’s just the kind of guy he was.

A thought crossed his mind as he neared the twinkling cabin, what if this place is full of outlaws, escaped convicts or crazy people. This could be his last minute on earth, then he smiled at the lights twinkling as dollar sized snowflakes started to fall. If this is his last minute to live it would not be too bad. He warmed as the snowflakes splattered his face, chuckled to himself, and then laughed aloud, “don’t think bad people decorate for Christmas,” he said to no one or to the snowflakes and cold.

The old cowboy tied his horse to the rail in front of the cabin, stepped on the porch and the door opened as if he were expected. A white bearded gentlemen in a red vest smiled and motioned him in. Banks felt rather young looking at the old fellow, thinking,“This guy has me by at least 20 years.”

“Can I get you something to warm ya up, Tea, Arbuckles’, whis”

“You have Arbuckles, real Arbuckles, haven’t tasted that since before I went off to France in the first war, love some.”

Banks watched the old man take a one pound bag of Arbuckles Ariosa Blend from the cabinet and make coffee on the massive wood stove in the kitchen part of the cabin. It was good, better than anything the old cowboy had tasted in years, but how did he do it, Arbuckles’ hadn’t made coffee, let alone Ariosa Blend for years.

The two men sat and talked for hours, talking about everything and chatting about nothing, like two old friends they talked into the dark of night.

When the old cowboy woke up he could not remember falling asleep. Now he was stretched out on the couch, his boots beside him on the floor. He was toasty warm as he rolled back the red and green feather comforter and turned to get up. He was all alone. He thought the old man must be outside. Slipping on his boots he walked out on the porch, half a foot of snow covered everything in sight, his horse was gone, but he knew it was in the barn. He also knew he was all alone, he could feel things, just the kind of guy he was.

Banks went back into the house, he was hungry and he wanted to taste that Arbuckles one more time. A skillet of bacon sat on the stove, beside a pot of mush and a fresh pot of coffee, and of course it would be Arbuckles, he thought. Funny but he was sure there was nothing on the stove when he stepped outside, must have failing vision along with everything else in his old age. Then he felt it, or didn’t feel it, he had no aches and pains, the ones that had been with him since his army days. The coffee was good but he wasn’t sure it had magical healing powers.

It was time to go home, he wished he could say goodbye to the old timer, thought he might ride back up here in the spring. But now it was time to leave, he had things to do, and he felt different, happy and healthy. Walking to the barn it seemed almost warm, Banks felt like he had stumbled upon the fountain of youth.

Tracks near the barn stopped him, some kind of sleigh tracks, but the animals pulling it were not horses, smaller like deer tracks, but larger, really big deer. He saddled the gelding and rode out of the barn right into the bright sunlight of his own place. How it happened he did not know, but he was home.

Was it a dream, did he have a stroke and die, was he in heaven now? Nope, he was pretty sure his place would not do for heaven. Didn’t matter, he had things to get done.

Clark Banks rode to town in a gallop; it was early, old man Tatum would open the store for him, especially after he told him he intended to buy a present for every kid in town.

He wasn’t sure why he had so much Christmas spirit, maybe it was just the kind of guy he was.

Writing Blues

Retired from my day job,  at the end of May, and have written very little since then. Seemed like playing golf, fishing, hiking and gardening was taking up my time—now it’s cold out and time to write.

Some of you that have been kind enough to read my, off and on, posts for years know that I have a completed novel that I have not published or attempted to publish. Now I have another and a nonfiction. The problem-I love to write, hate to rewrite--- well maybe someday.

Reading Westerns and Mysteries and Western Mysteries

Most readers that like westerns seem also to be avid readers of mystery novels. My favorite reads are books that have great elements of mystery but are set as westerns in the old or new/modern west. It is not always easy to find this type of western as most seem more to lean toward crime fiction, historical fiction or western romance. Seems like there are a lot of modern westerns, Tony Hillerman’s stuff comes to mind, that have sold a ton of books twisting great mysteries in a western setting but not as many set in the old west.

Mysteries with a red herring or two thrown in can’t be beat in my estimation.  I am constantly searching for new authors to read and try to find writers who write both mystery and westerns. This is the way I found Elmore Leonard, long ago, before the internet.

Some writes seem to write great characters that fit well into the new west but really are not meant to be westerns, Lee Child’s, Jack Reacher comes to mind. (I have really enjoyed this series of books). Two other authors of modern westerns, C.J. Box and Craig Johnson (I may be prejudiced here as they are both Wyoming writers) write great modern western mysteries and are well worth the read. Johnson’s ongoing character, Walt Longmire, has been made into a very good A&E television program-LONGMIRE (airing every Sunday evening)

Happy Reading, enjoy the twists and turns of a great western mystery.

A Long time Ago

Wow-Did you ever leave something alone and then come back to it a year or more later? It will be either better than you remembered or filler for the trash. In my case I was happy with the novel I put away-two years ago, better than I thought, still needs some grammar and punctuation stuff but all in all I like the story. Time to get back to work; hope to peddle this before the first of September

The Virginian --Nope

Ever wonder where writers come up with characters for their novels? Well this guy was sure he was the Virginian. He lived at the right time and was in the same general area as Owen Wister was when he wrote the famous novel, but I doubt he was the Virginian. He may have been the basis for a physical description of the famous cowboy, or as Wister wrote, cow-boy, but he was not the Virginian, of that I am sure.

The summer of 1914 may have truly marked the end of the old west. Why, because that was the year of the last stagecoach holdup, and it took place near Shoshone Point in Yellowstone Park. Other places claim the last holdup, including one of the Cheyenne-Deadwood Stage and one in Nevada, but I like this one. The year marked the end of the horse’s only transportation in the park, as cars came for the first time the next year, and a year after that, 1916 would mark the end of the coaches in the park.

I like this bit of history because the robber, Edward Trafton, (Ed Harrington) did not just hold up a stagecoach, he held up fifteen in a row. The stages carried tourists seeing the sights of the park, and the sixteenth coach, sniffing out something bad, turned around and went for help.

Wearing several layers of extra clothes and a black mask,Trafton stopped each coach rustled out the passengers and asked them, while holing a rifle, to put their money in a sack lying at his feet. For his days work he collected a little over nine hundred dollars and jewelry worth another one- hundred and thirty dollars. Trafton, a ladies’ man, or one who believed he was, laughed and asked the ladies to hide their jewelry, he was only interested in cash. Not sure how or why he ended up with more than a hundred dollars worth anyway, maybe he didn’t like some of the women as much as others.

Trafton had so much fun holding up a stage every half hour that he even allowed some of the passengers to take his photo. Not sure Tafton was the smartest of outlaws, but he likely believed he was, because of this day, famous, and needed to secure his place in history. It did secure a place but maybe not what he had in mind.

The well photographed outlaws next stop was Leavenworth, where he rested up for five years. He died more than a decade later
with a letter in his pocket claiming he was the cowboy Owen Wister based the Virginian on. More likely, if Wister ever met him and put him in the famous novel, he was one of the bad guys or less than bright characters in the story. Trampas?

Good Read

Just finished reading, Cormac McCarthy’s, No Country for Old Men, I liked the story line, and have always enjoyed, so called, modern day western’s. The trouble I had with this book, and one other of his that I have read, is trying to figure out where dialog starts and ends, or story narration is taking place. Part of the way down each page I would figure it out and then often start that page over.
But somewhere along the ling I realized I could not put it down—I really liked the story, and now I want to read another of his works.
Good book, but beware of the lack of punctuation.

Wyoming and the Code of the West

Last March the Wyoming legislature passed senate file 51. This bill, while not a true law as much as it is a suggestion has been both admired and critized. Some say it makes those of us who live in Wyoming look like a bunch of hicks, others say, yes, this is what we are all about.

Here it is - The Code of the West, bill.

Adapted from the book, "Cowboy Ethics," by James P. Owen

-The code includes-


1. Live each day with courage
2. Take pride in your work 3. Always finish what you start
4. Do what has to be done
5. Be tough, but fair
6. When you make a promise, keep it
7. Ride for the brand
8. Talk less, say more
9. Remember that some things are not for sale
10.Know where to draw the line

The Code of the West, alive and Well in Wyoming –click here to watch a great four minutes of Wyoming.

http://www.vimeo.com/7931683

My Yearly 99 Word Western Novel

It was dark, black on black. Then a slight noise but it was as dark for him as it was for me. I waited, not sure why, and then edged off the step into the soft dirt. I crept along keeping one hand on my Colt and the other on the side of the building. The odor stopped me cold. I had smelled death before and this was not it.
Just as my wife called out, “Tom, lookout, a skunk,” he fired.
I dropped to my knees, not dead but wishing I was. The door latched, I heard laughter.

Christmas and Sledding

Christmas is over and I am sitting in my recliner playing with my brand new Kindle. (I have downloaded my first book - a Wm Johnstone Western)
All four kids and all seven grandkids made it. BUT as always there had to be a mishap and this one was a dozy. Our four year old granddaughter broke her leg sledding. It was our second day on the hill (yesterday) she is a tough little kid but when she said she needed to go to the doctor we knew it was hurting. Now it is all cast up (hip to foot) and in about eight weeks she will be as good as new. Thank God for grandkids, good doctors and quick healing for four year olds.

Novel Ready to Go

Sorry I have been away so long.

I have spent most of my free time the last three weeks trying to put the finishing touches on a western novel. It is complete at a little over 70,000 words. The protagonist is a cowboy, sometimes gambler sometime lawman still trying to figure out who he really is. He rides a great horse and is better with knives and guns that just about anyone who ever lived. A dime novel hero in the making, trouble is he can’t make a commitment, not to anything. Not to the love of his life not to a job not to a place to put down roots. A modern day wanderer in the 1880’s who is befriended by a legendary mountain man works with an aging civil war hero and meets a mystical preacher along the way.

I call it a western mystery and I think it is pretty good. I have published some shorter stuff in the past and am pretty confident that I will be able to sell it – but we will see.

I have two other novels ready for review and rewrite, a modern day western mystery and a nonfiction book. I find writing and researching stimulating, rewriting and revising boring and hard work.